One given to sonorous and orotund phrases would doubtless have coined a
most splendid speech here. But all the old judge, gently patting her
hand, said was:

"Well, now, ma'am, that's powerful fine--the way it's all turned out.
And I'm glad I had a blunderin' hand in it to help bring it about. I
shorely am, ma'am. I'd like to keep on havin' a hand in it. I wonder now
ef you wouldn't like fur me to be the one to go right now and fetch your
mother here to you?"

She shook her head, smiling.

"Thank you, judge, that's not necessary. She's here now. She was here
when the baby came. I sent for her. She's in her room right down the
hall; it'll be her room always from now on. I expect she's sewing on
things for the baby; we can't make her stop it. She's terribly jealous
of Miss McAlpin--that's the trained nurse Dallam brought back with him
from St. Louis--but Miss McAlpin will be going soon, and then she'll be
in sole charge. She doesn't know, Judge Priest, that what she told to
you I now know. She never shall know if I can prevent it, and I know
you'll help me guard our secret from her."

"I reckin you may safely count on me there, ma'am," he promised. "I've
frequently been told by disinterested parties that I snore purty loud
sometimes, but I don't believe anybody yit caught me talkin' in my
sleep. And now I expect you're sort of tired out. So ef you'll excuse
me I'll jest slip downstairs, and before I go do that there little piece
of writin' we spoke about a while ago."

"Wouldn't you like to see my baby before you go?" she asked. Her left
hand felt for the white folds which half swaddled the tiny sleeper.
"Judge Priest, let me introduce you to little Miss Martha Millsap
Wybrant, named for her grandmammy."

"Pleased to meet you, young lady," said he, bowing low and elaborately.
"At your early age, honey, it's easier fur a man, to understand you than
ever it will be agin after you start growin' up. Pleased indeed to meet
you."

If memory serves him aright, this chronicler of sundry small happenings
in the life and times of the Honorable William Pitman Priest has more
than once heretofore commented upon the fact that among our circuit
judge's idiosyncrasies was his trick, when deeply moved, of talking to
himself. This night as he went slowly homeward through the soft and
velvety cool of the summer darkness he freely indulged himself in this
habit. Oddly enough, he punctuated his periods, as it were, with
lamp-posts